


Five Times Matthew Safeworded (and one time he should have)

by schwertlilie



Series: (I Owe You A) Love Song [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Character Development, Cock Rings, D/s, Developing Relationship, Human Names, Kink Meme, M/M, Roleplay, Safewords, Sibling Incest, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwertlilie/pseuds/schwertlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of on-again, off-again relationships, Alfred finally tells Matthew what he wants - for Matthew to be in charge during sex, in whatever way he wants. But the process isn't easy, especially when they both have problems talking about what they want & need... Dom!Canada/sub!USA.</p><p>Kink meme de-anon. Prequel to Can't Run But. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

Matthew shifted on the couch while the credits rolled, carefully not looking at Alfred. Tried not to think about Maggie Gyllenhaal deliberately making typos or the way James Spader washed her leg. If that's what Alfred was into, no _wonder_ they never stayed together more than a year at a time. "Why did you want me to watch that?"

"Because I want that. With you."

"You want me to- to _hit you_ , and put you in a yoke, and order you around, and test you and your loyalty all the time?"

"No, I just- Fuck." From the corner of his eye, Matthew could see Alfred rub the bridge of his nose. "Forget the movie. Just- Forget it. You know what you're like when you're hyped up on hockey and angry and I'm right here to be a convenient target?"

Shit. "Yeah."

"I want _that_. More of the time." He fidgeted, looked away from Matthew and the TV. "Fuck, this is hard. Francis said it would be, but- What's wrong?"

He forced his expression to even. "You screw him before or after you talked about this?"

"Matthew!"

"I leave, before or after you sleep around. Eventually we fuck again, and it all repeats."

"And _that's_ why I was talking to Francis. Christ, are you always this suspicious?"

He crossed his arms. "You tell me."

"Matt, I-" He sighed. "Can we start over? This conversation, I mean."

Matthew considered, and nodded, once.

"Okay. I- I want you to be in charge, in bed. I want you to tell me what to do and how to do it, to reward me when I'm being good and punish me if I'm bad. No yokes if you don't want to, and nothing outside of the bedroom. Well," and he grinned, "unless we're fucking against the fridge or something, then it'd be okay."

"And why me? You have enough lovers, surely Arthur's better suited, or Francis, or Kiku..."

"But I only want _you_ to do it. I don't trust Arthur enough, and Francis has his whole thing about aesthetics, Kiku's into weird toys..." He sighed, dropped his head to his hand. "Did you know that sometimes I make you mad on purpose, just so you'll go into super-duper toppy mode? Because you're so fucking _hot_ when you do that?"

"No, I-" He swallowed, looked at his hands. That shouldn't be hot, it _shouldn't_. "Why are you asking me now?"

"Because I was talking to Francis about why the two of us never work out, and he said to tell you what I want, straight up." He scratched his chin. "I, uh, didn't tell him _what_ I wanted. If you care."

He did. "You talked to Francis about me?"

"Us. And don't say that like I don't know you go vent at Lukas every time things go south with us."

"I don't fuck him, if that's what you're implying."

Alfred's jaw clicked shut. Then he sighed, slumped. "I'm just asking you to think about it, Matt. That's all."

 

They didn't have sex that night, or the night after, but Alfred nuzzled close and Matthew didn't push him away.


	2. ONE

Lukas = the Netherlands

"What's the worst that can happen?" Lukas asked when Matthew called him that weekend. "You find out you don't like it, end of story."

"I could hurt him, or we could end up in another yelling match, or something could go wrong..."

"Lieverd, we both know you'll end up fighting at some point, so that doesn't count. And if you don't want to mess up, do research. You _do_ have an internet connection."

"But-" He sighed, listened to Lukas take a drag on his cigarette.

After a moment, Lukas exhaled. "If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. Tell him to find someone else."

"I don't want to hurt him," he said quietly, "or hit him, or anything, but I- I like it when he lets me be in charge, really lets me."

"So give it a shot."

"Fine."

Lukas clucked his tongue. "That's hardly enthusiastic, boyo."

"I know. I- ... I know." Matthew set his glasses on the coffee table. "Do you have any suggestions on where I should start?"

"Google." Matthew barely heard him mutter "Why does everyone assume I'm into that?" before he took another drag. "Let me know how it goes."

"Which part, the sex or the relationship?"

"Guess."

 

Matthew looked at his list of things to talk about one last time, then shut off his computer and went downstairs. He followed the smell of frying meat into the kitchen, and found Alfred poking at beef strips in the electric frying pan. "You're early," he said.

"Yep. Thought dinner'd be nice." He kissed Matthew's cheek, and picked up the chef's knife. "Is that bad?"

"No, I just didn't hear you come in."

Alfred nodded, placed a green pepper on the cutting board. "Thought so. And I was being sneaky."

He couldn't stop his mouth from curving into a fond smile. " _Very_ sneaky. ... Al?"

"Mm?"

"Can we talk?"

The blade hesitated over the pepper. "About...?"

"That thing you want."

Alfred resumed chopping, a little slower than before. "You aren't talking about the new Smash Brothers game, are you?"

"No, about-" He took a breath. "About sex."

"You say that like you've never had it before."

"I've never had _this kind_ of sex before. And I need to know-" he went through his list in his head, "-what your limits are. What you don't want."

"You know me, it's the same as always."

"It's not the same. Sure, I won't ask you to piss yourself, but what about name calling, or hair pulling, or slapping, or..."

"Well.. how about I tell you if it's something I really don't want when we get to it?"

"Safeword?"

"Yeah." He waved the knife in a circle before beginning on a new pepper. "That."

"What kind? Finger signs, or a word, or colours?"

"I dunno, pick something."

Matthew looked at the table, then back at his sometimes-lover. "Alfred."

"Uh-huh?"

"You haven't put much thought into this, have you?"

"I've put plenty of thought into it, thanks. How to ask you without you freaking out, what I want, what I'll do if this all blows up..."

"Then what _do_ you want, Al?" He slumped into a chair.

"I want you to be in control. And as long as you're in control, you can do whatever you want until you cross a line." He slid the chopped pepper into the frying pan, stirred. "And you'll stop if I mean it, won't use it against me."

Matthew let his eyes follow Alfred's hands as they dropped the cutting board into the sink, hesitated above the bubbles.

"Matt?"

"Green means go," he said quietly, "yellow means pause, red means stop."

"Matt, I- Oh!" Alfred grinned at him. "Got it. Anything else?"

"You need to _use_ them if you need to. No being stoic, or heroic, or whatever you're calling it these days."

"Deal." Alfred crossed the floor, kissed Matthew solidly on the mouth. "You're the best, you know that?"

He flushed. "Your fried rice smells done," he muttered.

Alfred just smiled.

 

That was Friday. Saturday afternoon, Matthew leaned over the back of the couch and said in his very best confident voice: "I'm going upstairs in five minutes. Be kneeling by the time I get there."

Alfred looked at him for a moment, then grinned. "Sure thing, boss."

He nodded, padded back out to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water. He could _hear_ Alfred humming to himself as he messed with the DVR, and this was-

This was _ridiculous_. He was nearly four hundred years old, he could handle a little sex. It was just a different kind of sex, that was all. Matthew took a breath, and rehearsed his plan in his head.

At four minutes forty-five seconds he dumped out his glass, untouched, and walked upstairs.

Alfred was waiting for him on the floor, hands on his thighs and eyes on the carpet. Lovely, but not on the bed like he'd..

Wait. He hadn't specified, had he?

He shut the bedroom door and bent over Alfred, stroked his hair. "Good boy," he said, and felt Alfred melt under his hand. He trailed his fingers down until he was cupping Alfred's jaw. "You _can_ look at me, you know."

"This is different."

"But we're still us, yeah?"

"... Yeah."

He dropped a kiss to the top of Alfred's head, stepped back. "Stand up." He watched Alfred unfold with a little stumble - he hadn't been kneeling _that_ long, had he? - and draw himself up. "Shirt off."

Alfred tilted his head at Matthew, expression more curious than turned on, but he was wiggling his arms through the sleeves of his t-shirt and tucking his chin so that his collar wouldn't knock his glasses off, and Matthew would take what he could get.

"Good," he said when the shirt dropped to the floor, trying to make his voice low and sure. _That_ got Alfred's attention, and Matthew decided to reward him with a kiss.

Alfred opened to him, let him control the pace and depth and pressure, but didn't move otherwise.

Oh. Right. "You may touch."

His hands rose to Matthew's waist, thumbs just brushing his hips. No demand, not like usual; it was kind of nice, and kind of weird.

Matthew gave Alfred one last kiss, to the corner of his mouth this time, and pushed gently on his sternum. "Get on the bed, and lie face-up." He flipped through his mental cue cards while Alfred obeyed, then slid onto the bed. Straddled his lover's hips.

Completely forgot what he was supposed to do next.

He looked at Alfred. Alfred looked back.

The baseboard heater clicked on.

"... Matt?"

"I just need a-" He shook his head. "Yellow. Breather, whatever."

Alfred waited, watching Matthew watch him, then dragged his hands up Matthew's denim-clad thighs. "You're doing _fine_ , babe."

"Really?" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide how much to say and settling on all of it. "I feel kind of like an idiot, telling you what to do every few seconds."

"Then don't."

Matthew blinked, and Alfred's gaze slipped to somewhere over Matthew's shoulder.

"Think 'Rrrr, hockey,' like that time Calgary lost the Stanley Cup and I made you make me pancakes the next day. And just _do_. Or something. ... If you want to."

Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. "Alfred F. Jones," he murmured as he leaned back over Alfred's torso, fingers skating up his ribs, "are you presuming to tell me what to do?"

Alfred wiggled under him. "Just giving a suggestion."

Matthew tapped his fingers against Alfred's skin, murmured "Green," and kissed him - hard and deep and pressing him into the mattress.

 

Later, Matthew watched Alfred shudder through an orgasm and thought that if this was what it took to keep Alfred with him.. that yeah, he could do this after all.


	3. TWO

This was supposed to go _well_ , Matthew whined in his head. Not that the rest of his day had been good - paperwork and another parliamentary crisis and Alfred refusing to go get more cereal when he'd eaten the last of Matthew's Fruit Loops - but this was supposed to be the _fun_ part.

Instead, Alfred was grinning up at him from the pillows. "You want me to wear a blindfold? _Really_?"

Matthew took a breath, let it out. "Yes."

"Why? S'not like it'll stop me doing anything, and I know how the room's laid out."

Calm, he needed to stay calm. "That's not the point. Do it."

"No."

" _I said do-_ " He needed to- His hand was raised, curled in a fist and just _waiting_ to punch that goddamn shit-eating grin off Alfred's face, to make his eyes widen in surprise, face turn with the motion; to make his skin redden, body jerk and-

"Red," he said instead, and moved off of his brother, his back to Alfred. He could have- He _would_ have-

The mattress shifted. "Matt?" Alfred asked, voice quiet.

What the hell was wrong with him? Al trusted him, they were supposed to be playing, not abusing and-

"Babe?"

"... I wanted to hit you."

"I deserved it. Is that all?"

"'All?'" He bent over his legs. "It was going to hurt. I _wanted_ it to hurt."

"And I-" Alfred sighed, scratched his head. "... Can I touch you?"

He turned, ready to spit something about how Alfred never asked for anything, why start now- And stopped. Alfred looked.. uncertain, like he really didn't know if Matthew would say yes or not. He swallowed again, nodded; tried not to be too obvious about leaning into Alfred's warmth.

"It's okay," he murmured into Matthew's hair.

He hummed non-committally, but when Alfred brought his hand around to rub Matthew's stomach, Matt laced their fingers together, let Al run his thumb over Matt's knuckles. "... Was I doing something wrong, tonight?"

"Hm?"

"You weren't- You weren't _playing_."

"Oh." He pulled his arms tighter around Matthew. "I was, I just- Wanted you to put me in my place. And I mean it, that it'd be okay if you hit me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. Use your voice or something, I dunno." Matthew didn't respond, and he hesitated. "Do you want me to go?"

Matthew shook his head.

"All right." He gathered the duvet around them, and held Matthew close until they both fell asleep.


	4. THREE

Alfred draped himself over the back of the chesterfield, his elbows on Matthew's shoulders. "What'cha looking at?"

"Stuff." Matthew started to shut his laptop, but Alfred grabbed his hand.

"Nah-uh, no hiding." He laughed into Matthew's hair. "Kinky porn, really?"

"Shut up," he muttered.

"It's cool, babe. I'm just upset you didn't offer to share." He opened the screen to the picture of a woman suspended by her stomach, whistled. "That's some serious rope."

"It's _research_."

"Sure it is." He shooed Matthew's hand from the touch pad, and Matthew sighed. _Pick your battles_ , Lukas had said, and this was a pretty stupid one. "Wow," Alfred said as he clicked through the tabs. "You really like this stuff, huh?"

He shifted, tried to sink into the cushions. "Maybe."

"You _have_ always liked holding me down." He ruffled Matthew's hair, then dropped his voice to a murmur. "You wanna do this to me, Matt? Wanna-" he checked the screen "-chain me up and tie me down and do nasty, _nasty_ things to me? Your hair brush would make a wicked paddle."

Matthew swallowed, slid his hand under Alfred's to change the screen. "This, actually."

It was simple, compared to the others - just a black and white photo of a man naked and tied spread-eagled to the bed, his cock heavy against his stomach and wearing an expression of such pure want that it made Matthew's breath catch just looking at him.

"That's.. kinda boring."

"Would it be boring if I was doing what I wanted to you, and you couldn't stop me, couldn't make me do what you wanted?"

"I-" He paused. "Uh. _Wow._ You've, uh, you've thought of this, then?"

If one called jerking off to fantasies of Alfred tied down and begging "thinking of it," then yeah. "Mm."

"You want to?"

"... Yeah."

"... Okay." He kissed the side of Matthew's neck, rested his nose against the skin. "Wanna make you want me."

Matthew snorted, stroked Alfred's hair. "I always want you, you dork, even when I hate you."

 

It took Matthew longer than he expected to find everything he needed - the scarves, the safety shears, the knots - but when he did...

He looked down at Alfred's face as he clenched around Alfred's cock, just to see his eyelashes flutter.

... it was completely worth it.

"Maaaatt," Alfred whined, wrists jerking uselessly against the silk. "Wanna _touch you_."

"We are touching." Matthew circled his hips, watched Alfred's head fall back onto the pillow. Pressed little circles into Alfred's collarbone with his fingertips. "Touching a lot, actually."

"S'not the same. _Please_."

"No," he said as he slid his hands up Alfred's arms, touched his warm hands. "You know what you need to say if you want this to change, and you're," he kissed Alfred's neck, "not," kiss," saying it."

Alfred squirmed underneath him, and Matthew decided it was as good a time as any to lean back and ride him properly.

"Wanna touch," Alfred gasped, biceps tense as Matthew bounced on his cock and ran his fingers through Alfred's dusting of chest hair.

For all Alfred's protests, Matthew thought, he was keeping a damn good rhythm. He wasn't saying no, or stop, or red, or anything bad, and Matthew had to squeeze the base of his own erection because oh _god_ it was fantastic to be doing something he liked as much as Alfred liked having it done to him.

Alfred kept pulling against the scarves as he chanted "Please" and "Matthew," and Matthew couldn't resist trailing a hand up Alfred's stomach, his arm, exploring the dips and bumps of his muscles. A thumb on Alfred's abdominals was the last straw; with the crack of broken wood, he whined and curled around Matthew.

Matthew looked between the remains of his bedposts and his boyfriend, and laughed. Pushed himself off of Alfred's cock and said "Yellow."

"Matt," Alfred whined, fingers kneading Matthew's back. "Wha's so funny?"

He kissed Alfred's pout. "You broke my bed."

"Did not."

"Did too." He picked up the varnished knob - it used to be the left bedpost - and dangled it by the scarf.

"I- Oh." He coloured. "So I did."

"Mm-hm." He kissed Alfred's cheek. "Can you sit up?"

He frowned, hands reaching to pull Matthew back over him. "Can't we keep going?"

"In the guest room." He untied a scarf from the broken post, looped it around Alfred's opposite wrist. "Don't want you to get splinters."

" _Practical_ Matt." But he sat up, let Matthew tie his wrists behind him.

With a kiss he urged Alfred off the bed, out of the room while he grabbed the safety scissors. "You're helping me clean that up tomorrow."

"Babe, if you fuck me tonight I'll _make_ you a new headboard."

Matthew grinned, and tugged Alfred through the doorway.

 

 

"Chesterfield" - a kind of sofa, very Canadian. 


	5. FOUR

Matthew held Alfred's hands over his head. "What," he asked as he crossed Alfred's wrists against the arm of the couch, "do you have to say for yourself, taking the last chocolate cookies?"

"That's a shitty excuse for this, Matt."

"I know." He kissed the corner of Alfred's mouth. "S'why I left just the two in the package, and told you not to take them."

He laughed, stomach shaking under Matthew's thighs. " _Wow_ , Matt, reaching much?"

"It was convenient. But you disobeyed a direct order, and I _know_ you knew it was an order."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm." He leaned forward, dropped into the voice Alfred seemed to like so much. "From the way you looked at me." He stroked one hand down Alfred's jaw, possessive; Alfred shivered. "Like now."

"Matt-"

"What should I do with you? You like eating - should I feed you my cock, fuck your mouth until your jaw hurts? No," he said at Alfred's whispered "Please," "you'd like it too much. Maybe I should go down on you instead, deny you an orgasm for each cookie you ate." And _oh_ Alfred was gorgeous like this: rubbing his already-hard cock against Matthew's hip, completely focused on Matthew. "Deny you an extra one for each time you get so desperate you thrust and choke me." He pressed down on Alfred's wrists, but let go when Alfred's whine changed from needy to pained. "Yellow," he said, voice back to normal. "Al? You okay?"

Alfred blinked a couple times. "Yeah, why?"

He gestured at Alfred's wrists, still crossed above his head.

"Oh, that." Alfred circled his hands a couple times, then slid his fingers into Matthew's hair and pulled him down for a kiss. "'M fine, babe," he murmured against Matthew's lips. "You've gotta trust that I'll tell you if it's too much."

"... You're sure you're okay?"

"Yep."

He let himself smile, and kissed Alfred's cheekbone, just under the rim of his glasses. "Then go upstairs, and be naked by the time I get there."

"Yes _sir_ ," Alfred said with a grin, and wiggled from between Matthew's legs with a kiss.


	6. INTERLUDE

**.INTERLUDE I.**

Matthew cleared his throat, orange juice carton in one hand and his nowhere-close-to-full glass in the other.

Alfred tilted his head, game paused. "Yeah?"

"You left less than an inch of juice in the carton."

"It wouldn't all fit in my glass."

"So either take a swallow and the pour it in, or leave an actual glass' worth in the fridge. Do whatever you want in your house, just don't be an ass in mine."

"Sorry," he muttered; then he brightened. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're not going to ream me out for leaving my socks on your clean clothes, or not calling last week, or having a business dinner with Arthur I didn't tell you about, or forgetting to clean up the spaghetti sauce I spilled on your counter?"

"I thought that was Kumajirou."

"Yeah. Kumajirou, right."

Matthew snorted. "Just don't leave the orange juice like that again."

Alfred blew him a kiss. "Understood, babe."

 

~ ~ ~

 **.INTERLUDE II.**

Katya = Ukraine

 

Katya unfolded her nightgown. "Is there something you want to tell me, Matthew?"

He blinked, still looking in his suitcase for his toothbrush. "Uh, not that I know of?"

"You're back together with Alfred, right?" He heard her unspoken "again."

"Yeah."

"And he's rooming with Gilbert."

"Uh-huh."

"And you're not worried, or angry."

"I hope they don't keep each other up all night with drinking and make me have to drag Alfred's ass down to breakfast, but that's about it."

"So," she said, tilting her head, "is there something you want to tell me?"

"No?"

She put her bag on the floor. "You've changed, my dear."

"Have I?" He set the toothbrush and toothpaste on the hotel bed comforter, shut his suitcase as she regarded him quietly.

"You have." She patted his cheek. "It suits you."

He flushed, and looked away while she entered the bathroom. "I'll.. keep that in mind?"


	7. FIVE

It'd been a year, Matthew thought as Disney characters chased each other across the TV screen and his fingers combed Alfred's hair. A full year, and they hadn't had any major fights. Matthew hadn't disappeared during a world meeting to get his stuff from Alfred's houses, and Alfred hadn't shown up smelling of Francis' cologne or Natalya's perfume. Lukas even had the decency not to comment on it. Matthew nuzzled the crown of Alfred's head, and tried not to jinx it.

When the TV switched to an ad break, Alfred shifted in Matthew's arms. "Matt?"

"Mm?" he hummed.

"Can we talk?"

"'Bout what?"

"I had an awesome idea, and I did some digging." He kissed Matthew's wrist, mumbled the rest against his skin. "Looking at prices and stuff. There's a couple for sale on the Derby Line, half Quebec and half Vermont, and if those don't work we can probably buy an island or something and build one."

"Build a ...?"

"House."

Matthew froze and Alfred turned, cupped Matthew's cheek with his palm. "Babe?"

A house. For the two of them. Like they weren't expecting this to all blow up in another few months like it always did. "I, red, _what_?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, then dropped his hand. His gaze. "Things've been good," he muttered at Matthew's shoulder, "really good. And I want to be with you more than just weekends. Thought we could get a house on the border, one of the ones where the line goes through the kitchen or whatever, with separate rooms for Tony and Kuma and guests and play. Not that I don't like your bedroom, or anything. If you don't want to jump in like that, we could rent an apartment or something, or keep it like it is..."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Matthew said carefully, as the movie came back. "Looking up the sales, and all."

"Yeah."

He hesitated, then touched the nape of Alfred's neck. "You really need to find better ways of telling people things."

Alfred cuddled against Matthew's chest. "I tell you lots of stuff."

"Like that you finished off my Frosted Flakes."

"That was totally important. I don't carry your monopoly money around, and couldn't get more."

"You could take the fast way to Buffalo."

"Not in my pyjamas."

"... You don't wear pyjamas."

"Exactly." He nosed Matthew's collar bone, sighed. "Whaddya think?"

"I think that I need time. To think."

"Okay." His hand tightened in Matthew's t-shirt, relaxed. "No rush."

 

Six months later, they owned a two story house with a finished basement, bay windows, and four bedrooms.

The "housewarming" was private.


	8. one

"Ever think about role play?" Alfred asked over the remains of Sunday dinner. "Not like video games, but between us."

Matthew set down his glass. "Not.. really?"

"It could be fun. Playing with the past, what could've happened."

"Not what _did_ happen?"

"Nah, too close to home. Morelike..." He poked his potatoes with his fork. "If I lost my Revolution, or if you stayed French and invaded me or something. You don't have to if you don't want to."

 

But _Alfred_ wanted to, and Alfred never asked for anything. So Matthew took his time crafting a scenario, selecting the costumes, finding someone to teach him how to inflict pain safely. Moving the furniture around in his office and digging his oil lamps out of storage.

And then he was ready.

 

He was reading on the couch when Alfred cuddled up beside him. "Something wrong?" Alfred asked, nose in Matthew's hair. "You're all tense, haven't been paying attention to anything all day."

"Just a little stage fright," he murmured, turning a page and wondering how the hell Alfred had noticed. "Have plans for tonight."

"What kind of plans?"

Well, this was easier than dropping the order out of the blue. "The kind where I fuck you over my desk with your trousers around your ankles."

" _Oh_ ," Alfred breathed.

"Mm-hm." He squeezed Alfred's knee. "Eight o'clock. Your clothes will be on the bed."

 

It was eight oh five when Alfred opened the door, tugging a little at his linen shirt, and Matthew knew how this would go. He set his officer's sword carefully on the toy box. "Alfred."

"Wassup?"

"I said eight o'clock."

He grinned. "S'close enough."

"No, it's not." He stood, conscious of his green wool coat and the way Alfred watched him, and crossed the rug.

"Matt- _Ow!_ " he said as Matthew grabbed Alfred's ear, hauled him over the desk.

Matt didn't pause. "I _said_ eight," he said as he pushed Alfred's face into the varnished wood. "You lost, brother dear, and that means you don't get to do as you please anymore."

"I lost?"

"The war." His hand slid down to the nape of Alfred's neck, let Alfred turn his head to breathe. "Clever, using England's violation of your neutrality as an excuse to invade me. But don't worry, darling," he murmured into Alfred's ear, "you're back where you belong."

"And where's that?"

"With me."

Alfred shivered under his hand, and Matthew let his shoulders relax. The script he'd come up with was working, it really was.

"Arthur can't be bothered to see to your punishment. But it's all right," he said as he sat himself down in the red armchair, "as this _is_ rather personal for me."

"Really now."

"Mm-hm. Come here." He pointed to the floor next to his feet. Alfred hesitated, and Matthew clucked his tongue. "Don't make me tell you twice, Al."

Alfred stood, padded over the cotton rug. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Drop your trousers," he said in his best voice, and stroked Alfred's spine when he reached immediately for his buttons. "You rebelled, you invaded, and you must pay the price. But after that..." He cupped Alfred's ass. "After that we'll see. Bend over."

Alfred obeyed, and Matthew settled him on his lap, cock and balls nestled safely between Matthew's legs and Matthew's free hand holding him in place. "Yeah?"

"Yes." He gave Alfred's ass one last caress, and then a firm smack. "You were late," he said, watching Alfred's face as Matthew hit him again. "Disobedience will not be tolerated. Will be _punished_."

Alfred sucked in a breath, gasped it out when Matthew landed another stroke, a little lower than the last.

"Ten strokes, and this-" he hit Alfred's other cheek, just a little harder "-is the fourth. Count them out loud."

"Five," Alfred said with the next smack, and Matthew saw Alfred's hips jerks sideways as his hand landed on Alfred's thigh. "Six. Seven."

Matt could do this. Alfred wasn't safewording, wasn't in agony.

"Eight."

There was even something like a smile on Alfred's face.

"Nine. Ten."

"Good." Matthew dragged his fingertips over Alfred's ass, feeling the warmth of the rosy skin. "That was for being late."

He shifted under Matthew's hands. "Matt-"

"Have you anything to say for yourself?" Did he want to call safeword?

"... No."

"Very well." He turned back the cuffs of his jacket. Time for the next section. "Tell me, how do your people feel, right now?"

"What are you-"

He flicked Alfred's ass cheek. "How do your people feel?"

"Fine."

"They're _happy_ ," he corrected. "A little worried about their futures, and their families and jobs, but they're fine with belonging to you. And _you_ belong to British North America. Ten hits for rebelling and invading me, and making their lives difficult for fifty years."

Alfred looked at him; he looked back, and Alfred turned away. "One," Alfred said, and Matthew smacked the top of his thigh. "Two."

 _Vary it_ , Feliciano had said, so he did - a little harder ("Three"), a little higher ("Four"), a little softer ("Five"), until Alfred was wiggling under his hand and the flush had spread to Alfred's thighs ("Six," "Seven," "Eight").

"Nine." Alfred jerked forward with the force of the hit, his erection pressing into Matthew's trousers. "Ten."

Matthew aimed for the darkest skin, on the center of Alfred's right cheek, and got a yelp in return.

"That's my boy," he said as he stroked Alfred's legs, fingers gentle. "Think you can take one more set for me?"

He twisted to look at Matthew, breathing in quick, shallow gasps of air. "You're serious."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Because that's what he'd planned on. "Because I want you to."

"Oh." He shifted under Matthew's hand. "Okay," he whispered, and the blush on his cheekbones was lovely.

Matthew re-settled Alfred across his lap, his free hand going from Alfred's side to stroke his hair, and waited.

"One."

He hit Alfred with one hand, and rubbed the nape of his neck with the other.

Alfred hissed through his teeth. "Two."

He switched to Alfred's other cheek, and had to adjust his aim because Alfred scooted half out of the way. "If you keep trying to avoid it," he said, pressing his fingers into Alfred's shirt, "I'll add another round."

"'M not." He wiggled, and his stomach brushed Matthew's cock. "Just happens. Three."

On four they found a rhythm, Alfred's ass bouncing in and away while Matthew massaged his back. Five, six, and between the squirming and the breathy noises Matthew was hard. He had one of the most powerful nations in the world over his lap like a schoolboy and that nation was getting off on it. Seven, oh god, Matthew was hard from _hitting_ his _lover_ , blows heavy enough that his palm was red and smarting. Eight and Alfred was definitely hard against Matthew's leg, but that didn't make nine better. Ten and Alfred hadn't safeworded, hadn't said it was too much. It'd be okay, and-

Breathe. He had to breathe.

Matthew ran his fingers through Alfred's hair while Alfred rested on his lap. The back of his neck had a sheen of sweat, and Matt smeared it with his fingertips. It was okay. _Alfred_ was okay. "That's my Alfred."

He turned to nuzzle Matthew's palm. "Like the sound of that," he mumbled.

"I'll remember." Out, in. "Can you kneel?"

Alfred nodded, and Matthew helped him down to the floor. He leaned against Matthew's legs, head on Matt's knee and pants still around his ankles.

He rubbed Alfred's shoulder through his shirt, ignoring the wet patch on his own thigh. "Will you be good, now? No more rebellions?"

"Not 'gainst you." He cupped the back of Matthew's calf through his boot, pulled him closer.

Typical. Matthew smiled, hid it in Alfred's hair. He could do this - Matthew could give Al what he wanted, even if he was only half-hard and hating himself for it. "That's all the answer I'm getting, isn't it?"

Alfred hummed against his knee.

"When you're ready, stand up and put your hands on my desk."

He nodded again, nose pressed tight to the wool of Matthew's uniform trousers, and Matthew began to stroke his hair.

"I fought for you," Matthew murmured. "To have you back where you belong."

"I know." His fingers tightened against Matthew's boot in time with Matthew's hand through his hair. Hold, release. Hold. "Like it here."

He hesitated, palm over Alfred's scalp. "Al?"

Alfred just smiled, then stood and shuffled awkwardly to the desk, pants dragging on the floor.

Oh. Matthew swallowed. Right. He tried to not look at the flush of colour over Alfred's ass, and turned away to lift his sword off of the box. He couldn't fuck Alfred himself like this, but maybe it was better this way. He pulled out Alfred's favourite vibrator - it was purple and curved just right, even if it _had_ been made for a woman - and the unscented lube. There was more resistance in a silicone cock, and his aim was a little better with this one. If everything went right, he could-

"Matt?"

"Mm?" He glanced over his shoulder, dildo in hand.

Alfred's eyes flicked to the vibrator. "Yellow."

He dropped the toy and took the few steps across the rug to touch Alfred's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Want you. Not the fake dick." And oh _god_ , Matt could feel the warmth radiating from Alfred's skin. "... Please."

"All right." He kissed the nape of Alfred's neck. He should- He _should_ -

He should take care of Alfred.

"Anything else you want to change?" Matthew asked.

He shook his head, but made a noise when Matthew started to pull away.

"Just getting a condom, hon."

"Oh." He took a deep breath. "Okay."

He squeezed Alfred's arm, walked back to the toy box. So things were _not_ going right, but he could fix this. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his half-hard, sorry-looking cock. He rooted through the box with one hand, stroked himself with the other until he found the plain cock ring. He could hear Alfred breathing while he stretched the silicone over his glans, pushed it down to the base of his sort-of erection; then tore open a condom package and rolled it on.

Alfred made an impatient noise.

"You're being awfully demanding for a rebel, you know." He grabbed the lube bottle again before crossing back to his partner.

"I _said_ I'd be good from now on."

He nudged Alfred's legs farther apart with his foot, uncapped the lube. "What you're being, is bossy."

"Not my fault you aren't-"

Matthew squeezed lubricant straight onto Alfred's anus.

"Cold!" He started to turn, but Matthew just pushed him down again.

 _"You don't tell me what to do,"_ he said.

Alfred's jaw clicked shut.

"Better," Matthew said, and squeezed lube into his palm. "You may beg, if you wish."

He squirmed, and Matthew took that as his go-ahead. He stroked his hardened cock, twice - he was going to find the inventor of cock rings and kiss them - and pushed just the tip of himself inside. He watched Alfred relax, then began to fuck him open with little rocks of his hips.

If he didn't look at what he was doing, at the redness on Alfred's skin, he was okay. When he was half-way in he wiped his lube hand on Alfred's shirt, then pushed the linen up to his shoulders so he could nip at Alfred's spine.

"If I rebel again," Alfred asked when Matthew had buried himself nearly to the base, "would you come with me?"

He snorted. "No. But I'll put you in your place as many-" thrust "-times-" thrust "-as it -takes. However..."

Alfred shuddered around him, and he licked a broad stripe over a vertebra.

"However, if you're good..." He slid his hand across Alfred's hip, until his fingertips just brushed curls. "Good boys deserve rewards."

"I can be good." When Matthew's hand didn't move, Alfred shook his head. "I _am_ good?"

"There you go." He closed his fingers around Alfred's erection and stroked.

Alfred said something that might have been Matthew's name, and scrabbled for Matthew's free hand. Held on. Let Matthew touch him and play him, moved to the rhythm Matthew set, while Matthew tried not to listen to the breathy noises Alfred made when Matthew thrust in too close and rubbed his trousers over tender skin. Buried his face in Alfred's neck and tried to make it as good for Alfred as he could.

Matthew pulled out nearly as soon as Alfred had finished coming. Alfred wiggled at the loss, but let Matthew rub his sides, his shoulders as he came down, as Matthew slid off the condom and cock ring and dropped them both in the garbage bin.

When Alfred's breathing evened out, Matthew tapped the jut of his collarbone. "Al?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to get some water, okay? To clean up?"

"Mm. Want the bed."

"Okay. Bed first?"

He nodded, so Matt knelt to slide Alfred's pants from his feet, then pulled off Alfred's shirt and used it to wipe up the worst of the mess on his desk. Turned down the lamps before looping Alfred's arm around his waist.

Alfred absently patted Matthew's ass as Matthew walked him back down the hall to their bedroom, and smiled innocently when Matthew looked at him. And it probably _was_ completely innocent, damn him. They didn't speak as Matthew turned back the covers, settled him between the sheets.

He pushed Alfred's bangs off of his forehead, and tried to ignore how red skin stood out against the striped sheets. "I'll be back in a minute."

Alfred nodded, and buried his face in Matthew's pillow.

He took a breath, let it out, and escaped to the master bathroom. He hung his uniform over the shower curtain rod - he didn't get _that_ much lube on it - and ran the water until it was ice cold. Wet a washcloth and wrapped it around his erection, poured himself a glass of water. He shivered as he chugged the water, because good _god_ this was not his favourite way to get rid of a hard-on, but it did the job. Better than being half-hard for the rest of the night, anyway.

He refilled the glass with cold water, then the bowl he'd set aside this afternoon with warm water. Dropped his washcloth in the tub and grabbed a clean one from the stack on the counter and made himself go back into their bedroom.

Alfred was curled around a pillow, glasses on the nightstand. He smiled muzzily at Matthew. "Took a long time in there," he mumbled as Matthew put the bowl and glass on the side table, and crawled into bed with him.

"You're not the only one I had to clean up." He kissed Alfred's temple. "Want some water?"

"Nah." He plucked Matthew's glasses off of his face, and put them with the bowl. "Just you."

"You're a mess."

"So're the sheets."

"They're clean sheets."

"Not anymore."

Matthew gave him a look, but Alfred just smiled back. "You're incorrigible."

"People keep telling me that." He nuzzled Matthew's shoulder, pillow discarded for the moment. "And you're amazing. When you started petting me, crossing the signals, that was just-Wow."

He scritched Alfred's scalp. "You liked it?"

"Yeah." He leaned into Matthew's touch. "Never expected it out of you."

"You said you wanted to."

"Don't think I ever said anything 'bout spanking, though."

"You wanted to be punished." Alfred was worming closer, and Matthew tried to keep his crotch away. No sense giving Alfred ideas, not now. "So I set you up."

"You knew I'd disobey the time thing."

"Alfred, when's the last time you obeyed a direct order when we weren't already playing?"

He hemmed and hawed against Matthew's skin, and any other day he'd welcome the vibrations at his throat. "Can't think of any," Alfred said at last.

"Exactly."

Alfred laughed and wiggled his way up Matthew's body. "You know me too well, babe."

"You still surprise me. Sometimes."

He grinned; pulled Matthew into a kiss, tongue teasing Matthew's mouth open.

Matthew felt himself chuckling against Alfred's lips. Alfred was fine, he was _really_ fine - he only kissed like a tease when he was, well, being a tease - and Matthew let himself relax, let Alfred push him shoulders-first into the mattress and roll on top of him and-

Alfred pulled away, hands braced beside Matthew's head, and frowned. Matthew reached for him but he just tilted his head away. "You're an asshole," he said at last.

"What're you talking about?"

"This. Tonight. Dude, we've been fucking for _years_ , and you've never gotten that hard that fast after you've come."

He blinked. He hadn't thought he was hard, and he shifted his hips under Alfred's to test-

... Well shit.

"Yeah. And I've timed it, 'cause I have to wait for your ass to get back into gear before we can have another round. So either you have a fetish you haven't been telling me about, or you basically faked an orgasm - which is kind of a no-no - and made a fool of me 'cause it took me this long to realise. Ergo, you're an asshole."

"I did this for you," he snapped, then clapped his hand over his mouth.

"What, make me a moron who can't bother to take care of his partner?"

He looked past Alfred's hand at the wall, at the poster Alfred had insisted on putting up of a woman sprawled on a bright blue camaro. Not that it helped, with the way Alfred was staring down at him. "You wanted it."

"Where the hell did you get the idea that I want you to _lie to me_?"

"That first day."

"What."

"The movie. The one you made me watch to try and explain this. You said you wanted that. ... What the secretary and her boss had."

"That's not what I want."

"Then what _do_ you want? Because you haven't exactly _told me_ anything beyond 'Like that movie' and 'Let's do that again.'"

"I want-" He rolled off of Matthew, landed on his back with a hiss.

Matthew flinched.

"Oh, come off it. I'm fine, you're fine, and you're bringing me extra pillows in the morning."

He turned to his side, facing away from Alfred. "I asked you a question."

"I just want _you_ , okay?" The covers rustled; he was probably crossing his arms. "I want you to use me and stuff, to do whatever _you_ want."

"That's not an answer."

"Yeah it is." He huffed at the ceiling. "When you're in charge and liking it, you're fucking amazing. Like that time last week with the cuffs and the maple syrup? Amazing."

"You said that about tonight too."

"Just shut up for a minute."

He snorted.

"I get my kicks from making you happy, and that doesn't work if you're being all self-sacrificing and shit. There's lots of ways to do this stuff, and if you don't want to hit me, cool. Make me beg, or tie me up, or whatever, just like you’ve been doing. Hell, I'll clean the kitchen naked if you ask me with that voice you use. But there's not much point if we're not both getting off, yanno?"

"... Not really."

"Not at _all_." He rested his fingers against Matthew's spine. "And you've got to stop being so paranoid about hurting me. I've survived worse than anything you'll ever do to me."

"Doesn't make it right."

"Doesn't mean you have to beat yourself up about every little bruise, either. Or not-bruise," he added.

Matthew picked at the edge of the top sheet.

"… You're still an ass, you know that?"

"Mm."

He sighed, and flopped an arm over Matthew's waist. "If you want to make it up to me, make me breakfast tomorrow. A big one, with pancakes and bacon and Canadian bacon and eggs and stuff. And then never pull shit like this again."

"... Promise you'll start telling me things you want to try."

"I promise."

Matthew scooted backward, so that he was tucked close to Alfred's side. "I promise too."

~ ~ ~

Matthew is wearing the uniform of an officer of the [Canadian Voltigeurs](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_Voltigeurs), an all-Canadian regular unit of the War of 1812. They were at a number of important battles, so Alfred would recognise the uniform. Alfred, on the other hand, is just wearing fake period clothes.


	9. EPILOGUE

Matthew kissed the knob of Alfred's spine as he wrapped the white cord around his forearms. "Comfy?"

"Yep." Alfred wriggled against Matthew's t-shirt, but he kept his hands on his elbows. "I'd almost think this was fun for you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Except you're not naked yet."

"That's kind of the point."

"The point is you fucking me."

Matthew's fingers twisted the rope into a quick-release knot. "Who ever said anything about _fucking_ tonight?"

"I-" Alfred cut off when Matthew bit his ear. "Oh. Right."

"Yes, right." He nuzzled Alfred's neck as he removed Alfred's glasses. "Close your eyes?"

Alfred obeyed with a smile, and Matthew reached for the silk scarf. It was white, just like the rope on Alfred's arms, and set off the golden tone of his tan as Matthew tied it around Alfred's head. Summer was good to Alfred, Matthew thought as he ran a finger over Alfred's ribs, but not as good as Matthew could be.

Alfred shifted. "Matt?"

"Right here." He picked the cat bell up from the side table, put it in Alfred's left hand; it jingled until Alfred closed his hand over it. "Drop it for yellow."

"What, no safeword?"

"You talk like you'll be able to _say_ the safeword." He licked the bead of sweat at the corner of Alfred's jaw, just because he could, and loved the way Alfred flared his nostrils in surprise. He trailed a hand up, over Alfred's shoulder, then down to his waist. Curved his arms around Alfred's back. "Come on."

Alfred swayed in place.

"I won't let you fall, I promise."

Alfred took a breath, nodded; shuffled forward on bare feet while Matthew guided him backward, until Matthew's knees hit the bed.

"Stop. Kneel." His hands guided Alfred down, until his knees were splayed on the carpet and his head was bowed forward.

Now, that wouldn't do. He tipped Alfred's head back up. "You're beautiful like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"... Kiss me? Please?"

Matthew hummed in assent, his fingers in Alfred's hair as he leaned in. Alfred opened to him and Matthew's cock twitched where it was hard against his zipper at the way Alfred's tongue invited him in. There was a muffled "clunk" when Alfred shifted, but it wasn't a jingle, so Matthew kept going, kissing Alfred breathless. "Won't let anything bad happen," he murmured against Alfred's skin.

"Yeah." Alfred licked the corner of Matthew's mouth, smiled. "S'why it's you."

He- didn't know what to say to that, so instead he leaned back, freed his cock with a hiss. "Shuffle a little forward?"

Alfred moved, a little at a time, until his breath warmed the head of Matthew's erection and his shoulders were tucked between Matthew's thighs. "Now I get it."

"Mm?"

He leaned forward, and Matthew's cock left a wet trail against his cheekbone. "You're a pervert."

"You're the one on his knees."

"Yeah, I am." He turned his head, sliding Matthew's cock against his cheek until he could fit it into his mouth.

Matthew had to- breathe, while he watched Alfred between his legs, tongue wet and a smile curving his lips. It was- _Alfred_ was just as good, just as stunning as he'd imagined, the flex of his muscles against the cotton rope just as gorgeous. Because Alfred wasn't pulling away, wasn't breaking the ropes: he was focused on Matthew, on what _Matthew_ liked.

Matthew ran a hand over Alfred's shoulder blade, up his neck and into his hair. But this wasn't what they were here for. He dug his fingers in and _pulled_ , pulled Alfred's face further into his crotch and his mouth further down Matthew's cock.

Alfred gagged, twisted on the carpet as he fought for air, but he didn't drop the ball, didn't break the ropes. Didn't pull away. And as he accustomed himself to the dick in his mouth he relaxed, his shoulders easing. Matthew stroked Alfred's hair with his free hand, and slowly pulled Alfred into a rhythm, up and down and up.

It was further than Alfred liked to go - he couldn't swallow his saliva properly, not really - but it wasn't his limit. He slurped as much as he could, but his saliva still trailed down his chin. Matthew let go of Alfred's hair and Alfred kept the rhythm, so he trailed his fingers through the rapidly cooling spit-trails on Alfred's skin.

"You're gorgeous, hon." Alfred hummed a question on the downstroke, so Matthew continued. "Your mouth stretched tight over my cock, the wobble when you over-reach your balance- I wish you could see yourself like this."

Alfred made a pleased noise, and tongued a spot just under the crown of Matthew's dick.

Matthew let himself rock into Alfred's mouth, just a little, and watched the way Alfred scrambled to adjust. "I mean it."

There was a damp spot on his jeans now, just over his trapped balls - Alfred was getting sloppier, his breath coming in quick gasps through his nose. Matthew thrust a little harder and Alfred took it, so he thrust harder still.

Alfred moaned, and that was all the permission Matthew needed. He started to face fuck Alfred in earnest, short fast strokes that didn't quite touch the back of Alfred's throat. And Alfred tried, he _tried_ to keep up, but Matt just kept thrusting. Matthew could hear himself panting, hear himself mutter "Yes" and "Gorgeous," and watched his cock disappear into Alfred's mouth.

His orgasm was almost a surprise, but he remembered in time to pull Alfred's face from his cock; his come splattered over Alfred's blindfold.

When Matthew could focus again, the first thing he saw was Alfred's tongue reaching for a dribble of come sliding down his cheek. He filed the image away for later, and landed a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Up," he said once he had his breath back.

Alfred whined; Matthew clucked his tongue. " _Alfred_."

"I'll fall."

"I won't let you." He moved both hands to Alfred's ribs, urged him into a stand with the pressure of his fingertips. "Forward - onto the bed."

Alfred shuddered, but he let Matthew pull him forward, until his knees were on the bed and he was sitting on Matthew's denim-clad thighs. His dick was hard against Matt's t-shirt, and leaking.

"Very good," Matthew said. He kissed one of the trails of come. It was getting cold, but he made his point.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He settled one hand on the small of Alfred's back for balance, wrapped the other around Alfred's cock. "I think you deserve a reward, you were so good."

Alfred nodded frantically, and let Matthew coax him into a kiss. It was hot and wet and sloppy, just like Matthew's handjob, and in both Alfred pushed closer, asking for more.

He didn't last long, less than twenty strokes. His jaw fell open as he shook through his own orgasm, and he didn't resist when Matthew wiped a hand through the mess on his stomach and smeared it over Alfred's blindfold.

"Mine," he said simply.

Alfred gathered his breath. "Yours."

 _Definitely_ filing this away for later. Matthew planted little kisses on Alfred's jaw while their sweat cooled, until Alfred shifted in his lap. "Want to lie down?"

"Mm-hm. 'M cold."

"Okay. Can you stand up first?"

Alfred nodded, and let Matthew move him off of the bed. Matthew followed, stripped out of his shirt and jeans before slipping off Alfred's blindfold.

Alfred blinked a few times, squinted; but when Matthew made to wipe the come off his face he shook his head. "Leave it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He grinned over his shoulder. "I'll make you clean it up tomorrow."

"I'll make you do the _laundry_ tomorrow."

"Fair trade." He waited while Matthew unwrapped his arms, then dropped the ball to the floor and wiggled his fingers. "I just have to throw the pillowcases into the washer, definitely the better side of the deal."

"And I get to scrub come off your face in the morning."

" _And_ you get to know that I wore your come all night." He tugged on Matthew's hand.

Matthew followed his lover into bed, placed his glasses on the table; let Alfred snuggle into Matthew's neck. "True. ... Want me to rub your shoulders?"

"Nah, I'm good."

He touched Alfred's hair. "That you are."

Alfred just laughed against his skin, nose dry. "Love you, babe."

Matthew pressed a kiss to the top of Alfred's head. "I love you too."


End file.
